Like the dear violet, blooming in the shade,
Scarce daring e’en to court the sun’s soft rays,
Shrinking and trembling when by chance betrayed
To the wild ardor of some earnest gaze.
Thus art thou, Fanny! and thus will the light
Of thy fair spirit burst from its disguise
With sudden glory, and the vision bright
Shall thrill all hearts with love and glad surprise;
And startled souls shall thy bright soul allure
To kneel and worship at a shrine so pure!